


And A Good Morning

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magic, Morning Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning not too long after Anders moves in with Hawke.  They're still learning to negotiate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And A Good Morning

Anders’ back was all planes and angles under his hands, and as Janin smoothed his palm over the sharp jutting curve of his hip, ran it up over the dip in the small of his back, he thought that he’d need to feed him more that he was going to be living here, in his estate, now that he’d have the chance, and as he ran his fingers up the knobby curves of his spine, he thought that Anders fit so well in his arms despite the angles, even as Anders rolled over on top of him, his knee slipping between both of Janin’s as he slid a little further than he’d meant to, catching himself with one hand and one knee on the bed with a slight laugh that Janin could taste on his lips when he leaned forward and took Janin’s face in his hands to kiss him.   He kissed open-mouthed, intense and _feeling_ , tasting Janin as if he would never get enough, his hands warm and worn and gentle on Janin’s jaw, brushing against the skin of his neck.  Janin sucked in his breath and lifted his head into the kiss, feeling his hand press close on Anders’ back at the heat, the tender sharpness that quivered through him, the generosity in the way Anders gave him his tongue and lips and breath.  The taste of him was still new, and somehow so familiar, the tingle of magic on his tongue and the flavor that was Anders, that was healing and affection and a crooked smile and a sharp tongue and slumped tired shoulders and determination.  He pulled Anders closer with both hands, rolling him over, onto both their sides, and Anders went willingly, curled his fingers into Janin’s hair and opened his mouth still further, licking his way into Janin’s mouth with an eager hunger that made Janin groan and suck on his tongue.  Anders just wriggled ever closer, and Janin stroked his hands up and down his back and thought, distractedly, that he could feel his ribs just under the muscle, before he lost his train of thought in the warm sweet wetness of Anders’ mouth.  
   
There was a long time they spent simply kissing, pressing close, their legs tangling together and their hands mapping out each other’s bodies, even as the morning sun rose and began to shine through the curtains.  Janin found a shallow scar that trailed alongside Anders’ spine, another on his hip.  He pulled away, eventually, to brush Anders’ hair back behind his ears and smile down at him, sliding his fingers into the tangled strands, tracing that ridged scar tissue with the fingers of his other hand.  “How’d you get this?” he asked.  
   
Anders shifted, glanced down.  “Oh, that,” he said with a shrug.  “I got kicked by a horse.  Damn thing and I just didn’t get along.”  He sighed.  “I could’ve escaped that time if it would have just done what I wanted it to, but it threw me instead.  Three times.  And the templars found me in the mud.  Just my luck.”  He smiled slightly, catching Janin’s hand in his and dragging it up his side, over his chest.  “If only it had been a cat.  I understand cats.”  
   
“What about the one on your back?” Janin asked, letting his hand skim over Anders’ chest, flicking over spots that made him gasp and squirm ticklishly.  Anders grabbed his hand and held it still, chuckling breathlessly.  
   
“That . . . stop that,” he gasped out.  “Which one?”  
   
“The scar on your back,” Janin repeated, and skimmed his hand around to trace it with his thumb.  “How did you get it?”  
   
Anders’ eyes shuttered, and he looked down.  “Oh, that,” he said.  “That . . . I don’t remember.”  
   
Janin didn’t believe that for a second.  “You could just say it’s a secret if you don’t want to tell me,” he said, trying to conceal his sudden hurt under a joking tone.  
   
“It’s not a secret,” Anders said, then sighed, uncomfortably.  “It’s just . . . I was trying to heal someone, and a man took a horsewhip to me.”  He shook his head.  “Not a very pleasant story.”  His jaw set in a stubborn line.  “What kind of world is it where a stupid, scrawny boy gets called a maleficar by the very people he’s trying to help, just because he has the power to heal them?”  Janin could smell a faint whiff of ozone in the air, saw a spark of blue in Anders’ eyes, but in the next moment it was gone, and Anders sighed, reached up to run his fingers through Janin’s hair and down his neck, smiling crookedly, apologetically.  “Sorry, love,” he said.  “It’s just . . . not a very pleasant topic.”  
   
“No,” Janin admitted, and hesitated, not sure how to say what he wanted to say.  “But . . . I know I don’t always take things terribly seriously,” he said, “but you can tell me these things.  Anything.  You can tell me anything you like.”  
   
Anders’ smile grew even more lopsided, fondly wistful.  “Thank you, love,” he said, and leaned forward to kiss Janin again, this time with more heat, running his hand over the muscles of his chest.  Light sparked around his fingers, and then warm, tingling magic was dancing over Janin’s skin.  Janin heard himself gasp, and his back arched despite himself when Anders traced a line of sparks down his spine.  
   
“S-so that’s the electricity thing Isabela was talking about?” he managed.  
   
Anders grinned up at him, a little wickedly.  “Part of it,” he said, and rested his hand at the base of Janin’s spine, letting the tingling sparks of electricity calm into nothing more than a soft, constant heat resting over his skin as he traced his palm in slow circles.  “There’s a lot more exciting things I can do.”  
   
Janin grinned at that.  “Try me,” he said, making it a challenge.  
   
Anders raised his eyebrows with a laugh.  “All right, then,” he said.  He pushed Janin over onto his back, then crawled down to take Janin’s cock in his still magically warmed hand.  The sudden heat and pressure made Janin jump, made a groan rise in the back of his throat as Anders pulled his hand up in a long, slow stroke.  And then he was skimming his hand back down and lowering his mouth over the head of Janin’s cock, swirling his tongue around the tip.  That was enough to have Janin throw back his head on a groan, but then a spark jumped from Anders’ . . . mouth, it had to be—to the tip of his cock, and he _yelled_ at the jolt of sensation that slammed into him.  
   
Anders’ mouth was busy, but his eyes were dancing in a smile before he braced his elbows on either side of Janin’s hips and slid his mouth down further over him.  The fingers he had wrapped around Janin’s length began to tingle and sparkle again, and Janin swallowed at the contrast between the hot wet suction of Anders’ mouth and the shivery tingle his fingers were sparking against his sensitive flesh.  He was almost whimpering by the time Anders eased off again, his legs splaying out wide despite himself.  Anders pulled back, with a long, lascivious lick up the side of Janin’s cock, letting Janin’s length slip out from between his lips, and Janin twisted his hands in the sheets to keep himself from reaching out and pushing his head back down.  
   
“Subtle, sweetheart,” he said.  “I don’t think your mother heard you.”  
   
“If she did,” Janin mumbled, “it’s your fault, and I’m blaming you.”  
   
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep quiet,” Anders said, tracing sparking little patterns on the inside of his thighs that made Janin squirm.  
   
“It is your fault,” Janin said, “it’s not _my_ fault, no one’s ever put lightning on my cock bef—mmh!”  
   
Anders had bent his head and slid his lips back over Janin’s cock.  This time he kept going, easing the head carefully against the back of his throat, and Janin caught his breath in amazement—was he really going to—and then the muscles of Anders’ throat relaxed and he _was_.  Janin felt lightheaded with the sudden wave of desire that washed over him.  Anders’ mouth was wrapped around him at the root, his nose pressed into the coarse dark hair at his groin.  His throat was a tight, constant heat—and then it changed, cooling rapidly, and Janin realized that Anders was using magic to cool the temperature of his mouth and throat, while his other hand traced hot patterns over Janin’s balls, across the sensitive skin behind them.  He tightened the muscles of his throat, and Janin’s vision slid out of focus with pleasure.  He heard himself babbling something, endearments, encouraging words that probably didn’t make any sense.  He remembered hearing himself say that Anders was shiny and sparkly and beautiful, but it didn’t sound ridiculous at the time.  
   
Anders pulled off again a moment later and grinned as he wiped his mouth.  Janin found himself preoccupied with the way he blew out his breath and it coalesced in a fog in front of him, like he was standing outside on a cold winter day in Ferelden.  “I’m what?” he said.  
   
Janin ran the last few second back in his mind and winced internally.  “Well,” he said with his most charming smile.  “You are.”  His neglected cock _ached_ , and he twitched his hips hopefully.  “More?”  
   
“You are truly a master of the art of romance, aren’t you?” Anders said, laughing as he sat back on his heels.  
   
Janin shrugged at him.  “Well, you sparkle,” he said.  “And you glow.”  
   
Anders waggled his fingers at him, sparks dancing between them.  “I suppose that much is true,” he said, smirking.  
   
“And you’re beautiful!” Janin said, satisfied with his point despite Anders’ smirk.  He reached out to curve his hand around Anders’ side, tugging him back toward him.  “Especially with your mouth around my cock.  Let’s try that again.”  
   
“That was poetry, Hawke,” Anders muttered with a grin.  He straddled Janin’s thighs and ran his fingers up the side of Janin’s cock, cold following in their wake, just enough to sting just slightly, the smarting cold a tantalizing contrast to the heat of Janin’s desire.  “But I had something else in mind.”  He tapped his fingers on Janin’s chest, sending hot bright jolts of sensation through him that made him gasp and arch his back.  He sucked two fingers of his other hand into his mouth, laving them with his tongue.  Janin groaned at the sight of it, and Anders winked and let them slid out of his mouth, nudging his hand down between Janin’s legs to rest just behind his balls, stroking the skin there before he slid his fingers back just a bit more and pushed one into him.  It burned, a bit, but Anders’ fingers were shimmering with warmth again, and Janin’s muscles relaxed almost despite themselves.  
   
“Are you healing me?” he asked, a little dizzily.  Anders’ other hand was still tracing tingling patterns over his chest, and it was making it difficult to think.  
   
“Well, I don’t want there to be any soreness,” Anders said, in his earnest healer’s voice, and Janin had to snort back a laugh.  
   
“I always did say you healing me on the battlefield felt like sex,” he said.  
   
Anders’ hand stilled.  He stared at Janin, his eyes wide.  “. . . You did?” he asked.  “Like _sex_?  Who did you say that _to_?  And why didn’t they _tell_ me?”  
   
Janin shrugged.  “Probably because it was Aveline, I was drunk, and she thought it was inappropriate,” he said, and gave Anders his best leer.  “Which it was.  But it does.  All that power coming from you, washing through me, _inside_ of me, making me feel wonderful—it’s _just_ like sex.”  
   
Anders shook his head, looking rather shocked.  “I will never be able to put my hands on you the same way again,” he muttered.  
   
“That’s the idea,” Janin told him.  
   
“No, it isn’t,” Anders replied, but he was grinning now, and moving his hands again, in ways that made Janin gasp and arch up into his hands.  “Healing is not supposed to be like sex.  Or . . . have anything to do with sex.  Not on the battlefield, anyway.”  
   
“You’re going to tell me you never thought about sex while you were healing me?” Janin asked him.  He spread his legs and canted his hips up toward him, giving him his best come-hither look.  “Not _once_?”  
   
“Never while you were bleeding,” Anders muttered, but he reddened slightly.  
   
“Ha!” Janin said.  “You did.  I knew it!  I knew you had.”  
   
“You are such an ass sometimes,” Anders said, with affection.  He shifted his finger inside Janin, slid another into him, and then curled them against the place inside him that Anders could always seem to find unerringly.  Janin choked back a cry and threw his forearm over his face to muffle himself.  
   
“All right, love?” Anders asked.  His hand on Janin’s chest had turned soothing, gentle and soft.  
   
“I’m fine,” Janin mumbled.  “ _More_.”  
   
Anders laughed.  “Impatient, aren’t you?” he said.  “I could get the oil, if you need it.”  
   
“I’m _fine_ ,” Janin told him, and wriggled, pushing himself down on Anders’ fingers.  “You don’t need to be so bloody careful.  I’m a big boy.  I can take it.”  
   
“Oh, you can, can you?” Anders asked.  “Well, then, who am I to deny you?”  He quirked his fingers again, and then there was that same tingling rush arcing through him from _inside_ , and it was incredible, amazing, like all the best sex of Janin’s life at once.  Anders had his other hand on his cock, doing something that made his nerves _sing_ , and Janin bit his own forearm to keep back the cries he knew were spilling from his own lips.  And then Anders bent forward and blew icy breath out over Janin’s cock, then followed it with a long lick of a hot tongue and another spark, and Janin was falling apart.  White stars exploded across his vision, and he muffled a scream against his arm as he came.  
   
He floated for what felt like a very long time, his mind nothing but a mushy, floaty mess of pleasure and light and _amazing_.  When he came back to himself, he felt limp, relaxed.  Anders had pulled the blanket over him and curled up behind him, his nose pressed into Janin’s hair.  Janin blinked and stretched, and Anders’ arm tightened around him.  “Hey there, love,” he said, his voice both amused and fond.  His breath was warm against Janin’s neck.  “How was that?”  Janin could feel his grin against his neck.  “Any good?”  
   
Janin had to laugh at that.  He felt wrung out, his body still trembling and a little tingly from whatever it was Anders had done.  It was like he’d been turned inside out, except in a way that felt amazing rather than hurt, like Anders had touched him _all_ over.  It was actually a lot like the feeling of his healing magic, but a lot more intense, because this seemed to have been entirely concentrated on his pleasure rather than anything else.  He flopped onto his back, and it seemed to take a great deal of effort.  “You’re actually asking?” he asked.  “Maker’s balls, man, have a little self-confidence.”  
   
Anders laughed at that, his lips quirking crookedly in that way Janin always found so adorable.  “Just checking,” he said.  
   
“It was _amazing_ ,” Janin breathed.  “You should bottle that and sell it.  No, on second thought, don’t.  I want to keep all of that magic for myself.  So, that was the electricity thing?”  
   
“Yes,” Anders said.  “That was the electricity thing.”  He sounded supremely self-satisfied, but, well, he deserved to, in Janin’s estimation.  
   
“Well, no _wonder_ Isabela remembered it so fondly,” Janin said.  He reached out and curled one arm around Anders, tugging him over until he shifted willingly onto Janin’s chest.  “Now, sweetness,” he said, and gave him his most suggestive smile, “we haven’t done anything for you yet.  What would you like in return for giving me my best orgasm ever?”  
   
“A kitten?” Anders said, his eyes dancing.  
   
Janin growled with mock annoyance and rolled them over until Anders was on his back to kiss him breathless.  “How about an equally great orgasm?” he asked, in between kisses.  
   
“Oh, that’ll do,” Anders said, laughing, and curled his arms around his neck.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Janin would be horrified to realize that absolutely nothing he's getting up to would be news to Leandra. She married a mage, after all.
> 
> There are a lot of similarities between this and my later fic With Passion'd Breath, which I didn't really realize until I reread them, but you can think of this as my first attempt at writing a lot of ideas I liked and used later on in more of a definitive treatment. But I still really like the dialogue and descriptions in here, so I'm keeping it up.


End file.
